


We Are Controlling the Game

by CaptainLeBubbles



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Asexual Agent Maine, Asexual Agent Washington, M/M, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3577098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLeBubbles/pseuds/CaptainLeBubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: you’re the crazy cat person next door and your cats keep on wandering into my yard au<br/>-<br/>Sigma was Wash's problem child, and the only person he was affectionate with was Wash's (smoking hot) neighbor, Maine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Are Controlling the Game

**Author's Note:**

> Every time one of those lists of au prompts come across my dash I grab the list and then go through and keep all my favorite ones and stick the first pairing that comes to mind next to it and then use it as a prompt list when I need one. This is one of the results.

o/o

*

Wash did not think of himself as a weird cat person, whatever South said. He had three cats, which was a normal number of cats to have for someone with the amount of space he had who lived alone but liked having someone to talk to. It wasn't like he did anything particularly weird with them. He didn't humanize them, or treat them like his substitute children, or anything like that. Sure, he worried about them and fussed over them, but he defied anyone with pets to not do that with them. And yeah, he had some pictures of them around his house and they were pretty much all he talked about on social media, but it wasn't like he did a lot on social media anyway so one or two posts a month about them wasn't enough to qualify him as a weird cat person.

He hadn't set out to have three cats. He'd set out to have two cats, Theta and Delta, because one cat might get lonely when he was at work so two could keep each other company. He'd been careful about getting them, making sure they got along (they did) and being sure that they weren't going to cause any problem for him when he was away. And everything was fine, until he went down to the animal shelter with South to help her pick out a dog and had seen Sigma.

Unadoptable was what they called Sigma. A problem child. People would take him and then bring him back and he couldn't seem to find a home that worked for him and Wash's heart had broken because it must suck to be shuffled around so much like that. So South had gotten her dog (a massive brindle-coated pit-shepherd mix who looked mean but spent the whole ride home trying to lick Wash's face; she called him Iota and blamed Wash because he was the one that kept naming his pets after Greek letters) and Wash had taken Sigma home with him.

It wasn't really that Sigma was mean. It was just that he tended to avoid human contact. When people tried to get near him, he hissed at them. South tried, and he scratched her; she had bitched about the gaping lines down her arm the whole time Wash doctored them for her. Even Wash was rarely given the chance to approach his problem child, except when it was time to eat.

He was nice to the other cats, or rather not mean to the other cats. He got on better with Delta; Theta stayed out of his way.

Wash knew he should have taken Sigma back to the pound, but he couldn't bring himself to. He wouldn't have liked being shuffled around and dumped so much, right? So he couldn't do that to Sigma, either.

*

Wash didn't really know his neighbor that well. He knew his name was Maine, he knew that he worked nights, he knew he kept birds, and he knew he didn't talk much. That was pretty much it. They didn't really keep the same hours, and since Maine kept to himself even when they did, he just didn't see him much.

So it was a bit of a shock to answer the insistent knocking on his door to find his neighbor standing there, Sigma purring contentedly in his arms.

It was a little too early in the morning for even Wash to be completely coherent, so he stood there for a moment, staring at the man in front of him, while it dimly registered to him that something was off about the scene. Ah yes, Sigma. Sigma, his problem child, who wouldn't let anyone touch him, perfectly happy in the arms of his neighbor who was standing there staring expectantly at him. He blinked.

“That's my cat,” he said stupidly. Maine grunted an affirmative and made to pass Sigma to him, but Sigma just hissed irritably and leapt down. Wash blinked again. “How did you get him to do that?” he asked. “That thing where he... doesn't attack you for touching him.”

Maine just shrugged, and turned to go. Wash was left standing in his open door for several moments, until finally he turned and made his way back inside to crawl blearily back into bed. Sigma was stretched out on the couch; he looked up and gave Wash an eerie look when Wash passed.

“You shouldn't... bother the neighbors,” he said, around a yawn.

*

Wash didn't see Maine again for awhile after that. He found the hole in the fence that Sigma had squeezed through to get out and fixed it, and gave no more thought to the issue. South brought Iota over a few times, and Sigma taught him very quickly not to mess with him. South bitched about the scratches on his face and Wash told her she should learn to control her dog. She yelled back that he should learn to control his cat, and left.

Wash collapsed onto the couch once South had left and Sigma hopped up into his lap, in one of his rare moments of affection. Wash scratched his ears briefly and let his hand fall, content with just the warm weight in his lap.

*

Three weeks later, Wash was once more woken to the sound of that insistent knock- it wasn't rough, or loud, or hard, or anything like that; it was firm, and reverberated- and once more opened his door to find Maine standing there, once more holding Sigma. Sigma didn't give Maine a chance to try handing him over this time, he just hopped down and stalked into the house to survey his territory. Wash sighed.

“Sorry,” he said. “I thought I fixed the fence. I'll give it another look later.”

“Don't worry about it,” was the reply, and Maine was once more gone. Wash didn't stand around on the doorstep this time, and he didn't bother scolding Sigma when he passed through the living room to return to bed.

*

When it happened again two nights later, it was South who answered the door. Wash was only dimly aware of the insistent knocking on the door, but before he could wake enough to process it, South had rolled from the bed and thrown one of his t-shirts on. He could hear her stalking through the house, swearing loudly about _fucksticks who don't know how to look at a fucking clock, do they know what fucking time it is, yeah, I'm_ _ **coming**_ _, fuck_ _ **off**_ , followed by the sound of the knock stopping and the door opening and a loud “What the _fuck_?” from South.

She came back into the room a moment later and Wash didn't even bother opening his eyes to acknowledge her. She threw his t-shirt off and slid back into the space she'd crawled out of moments before. “Your neighbor is hot,” she said idly. Wash just grunted in sleepy agreement and wrapped the blankets back around them both. “You should fuck him.”

*

So it was South that Wash blamed three days later when he was once again dragged from sleep to his door to find Maine once again bringing his cat home, and he found himself actually _looking_ at his neighbor for the first time.

To say that Maine was fit would be an understatement. He was tall, well over six feet, and he was built like he'd been carved from marble, each muscle and curve painstakingly attended to. There was a tattoo spiraling down one arm and a nasty web of scars on his throat, and a half-healed set of stitches below one eye.

Wash didn't really do sex, but he liked to look, and Maine was a feast for the eyes that he could stare at for hours.

Unfortunately, he'd already been staring for at least a minute and now Maine was giving him a quizzical look, head tilted slightly. Wash cleared his throat, and Sigma finally hopped down to pad inside. Wash coughed. “Sorry. I swear I'll find out how he's getting out.”

*

As soon as he got home that afternoon he went outside and began searching (again) for Sigma's secret exit. He poked and prodded at each board, but none of them were loose and none of them had holes.

Maine came out while he worked. Wash tried to ignore him, but he was hyper-aware of the man on the other side of the fence the whole time. Finally, he made it all the way around and sighed before leaning around the gate. Maine was sitting on his porch reading, but he looked up when he noticed Wash, and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Wanna come over for lemonade?”

Maine glanced down at his book, then back up at Wash. He nodded once, and stood.

*

“Sorry about South,” Wash said, ten minutes later. Maine was sat on his back porch drinking lemonade. Sigma had hopped up into his lap as soon as Maine sat down, and was purring up a storm while Maine stroked him. “She's not a morning person.”

Maine just shrugged. “Girlfriend?” he asked, after a moment, and Wash laughed, suddenly and loudly enough to startle Theta back into the house.

“No. South is gayer than ten unicorns fucking eleven unicorns. We're just friends.”

Maine grunted again, and went back to sipping his lemonade in silence.

*

Maine invited Wash over for drinks a few nights later. He came home just as Wash was checking his mail; he glanced at his door and back at Wash and said, “Drinks?” Wash had smiled and followed him inside. He didn't have anything actually planned for the evening, so why not?

Maine had four birds, a pair of conures and a pair of green-cheeks. Wash watched them flying in their cages- massive cages, he noted, proper, comfortable cages- while Maine got the drinks, and wondered how a guy as quiet as Maine could stand having their constant chattering. He would have expected him to prefer his home be silent. He said as much.

“Got a lot of siblings,” Maine said. He led Wash into the living room and they settled onto the couch with their drinks. “The noise helps.”

*

Time passed. They spent more time together, sometimes at Wash's, sometimes at Maine's. Wash learned to understand Maine's body language better, learned to read him without needing words. Sigma clearly approved of his presence; he was practically glued to Maine's lap when the other was over. Wash had given up trying to figure out Maine's secret. Maybe he didn't have one. Maybe Sigma just liked him.

*

“It's kinda creepy how he never says anything,” South said once. South wasn't like Maine at all; South was loud, South loved noise, especially noise that she was causing. Wash knew Maine liked the noise, but South had trouble adjusting to Maine's short sentences and grunts that had actual meaning behind them.

Wash shrugged. “He's just not that talkative.”

“Clearly.” She stretched out on the couch, careful not to shift Theta from his perch on her chest. “You fucked him yet?”

Wash flicked a pistachio at her in response. It hit Theta instead, who looked at Wash like he'd been betrayed. South reached up to pet him reassuringly.

“Right, I forgot, you don't have a functioning dick.” She eased Theta off her chest and sat up. “Does tall, dark, and creepy-quiet know that yet?”

“It hasn't come up.”

“Yeah, but does he know it hasn't come up?” She grinned, pleased with her joke, while Wash just rested his forehead on the counter. He knew he'd walked into that one.

“If he tries anything, I'll tell him. Otherwise, I don't see why it'll matter.”

*

The first time Maine kissed him, Wash was sitting on Maine's back porch watching him fix the handrails on his steps. There was something about watching Maine work, the way the sun and sweat made his skin glow, the way his muscles bunched and moved under his thin shirt, that was pleasing to Wash. Maine glanced up from his work and saw Wash looking, and quirked an eyebrow at him, questioning.

Wash just shrugged, and Maine went back to working, but a few minutes later he stood and moved over to where Wash was sitting, and leaned over to kiss him. It was nice- it was sweet, surprisingly gentle. Wash would have expected Maine to be rougher, but he really shouldn't: he'd seen Maine with his birds, seen Maine with Sigma, knew he was not the brute he looked to be.

It was over as soon as it began and Maine went back to work. Wash went back to watching him work, sipping on his lemonade and feeling incredibly smug.

*

Wash told his friends a few days later, when they came over for drinks. South high-fived him and York practically crawled into his lap in excitement.

“I'm so proud of you, buddy,” he said, throwing his legs over Wash's and resting his chin painfully on Wash's shoulder. “Our little Washpot finally got his first kiss. How sweet.”

Wash shoved him away. “I've been kissed before. Get  _off_ .”

“Kisses from relatives don't count,” South said, and leaned over to pinch his cheeks. He batted her away.

“You guys are assholes.”

*

When Maine brought Sigma home the next morning, it was York who answered the door this time. He stumbled sleepily through the house, yawning and mumbling. They could hear him answer the door, and there was a pause before “Ow! Son of a  _bitch_ ,” from York. A moment later Sigma padded in, looking rather full of himself, followed by York, face bleeding on his right, followed by Maine.

“ _Wash_ , your murder cat just came this close to fucking up my only good eye,” York whined, making a beeline for the bathroom. They could hear him rummaging around in the cabinets, looking for bandages and antiseptic. “Oh, and your boyfriend's here,” he called, completely pointlessly, because Maine was still standing in the doorway.

South shoved her head under the pillow. “Why are we saying words? S'too early for words. Everyone go the fuck back to sleep until the sun actually comes up.”

“...right.” Wash slid out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts before joining Maine in the doorway. After a glance at South, who was still bitching sleepily about being awake, he pulled the door closed and walked with Maine to the front door. Maine gave him a inquisitive look. “I don't let them drive home when we've been drinking,” he explained. “How they got from there to 'let's all sleep naked with Wash' is anyone's guess, though. Emphasis on sleep,” he added, in case that wasn't clear. He wasn't sure what this thing he and Maine had going was, but he didn't want it to end before it even began just because his friends didn't understand the concept of personal boundaries.

Maine just snorted, and wrapped one big hand around the back of Wash's neck. He leaned in to kiss him soundly, then pulled away and patted Wash's cheek fondly.  _It's fine_ , his body language said, with a side helping of  _damn you're cute when you're sleepy_ . Wash wasn't sure about that one; he could have just been reaching.

“Lunch later?” he asked, and Maine chuffed an affirmative. They'd reached the front door; Maine kissed Wash once more before leaving. Wash sighed happily as he went, then decided it was for the best that South and York hadn't seen that. They'd never let him live _that_ down.

South was in the bathroom spreading antiseptic on York's cheek when Wash got back to his room. “You can save my good looks, right, South?”

“I could if you had any to save.”

“You are cold, South. Absolutely frigid.”

“And that's why you fuck my brother, and not me.”

Wash rolled his eyes, and returned to bed. They would probably be arguing for awhile, and he had an hour of sleep left before he had to wake up for work. He wasn't going to waste it listening to them.

*

Maine met Wash just as he was going on his lunch break. He blinked in surprise.

“How did you..?” He trailed off. He didn't think Maine even knew where he worked, let alone what time he got off for lunch.

“South.”

Of course. South, who had still been asleep when Wash left her that morning. He wondered how that conversation had gone. He hoped she had been wearing clothes for it.

After lunch, Wash went to the camera store. He wanted to put a camera on Sigma's collar, and see if he could figure out how his problem child was getting out of the yard when the fence was hole-free. Maine went with him. He didn't have anything else to do, he told Wash, and he felt invested in the problem since it kept sneaking into his kitchen.

It was the weirdest first date Wash had ever been on. If it even counted as a date.

*

Time passed. Three months passed. Wash and Maine kissed more, and went on more dates, and spent more time around either Wash or Maine's houses. Sigma didn't escape the yard any in that time, though Wash watched the videos regularly to see if he was and they hadn't noticed. Maine slept over with Wash a few times. The subject of sex didn't come up and South speculated that maybe Maine didn't have a functioning dick either.

*

The thought stuck in Wash's head the next time he was at Maine's. Maine had cooked dinner, and now they were on the couch, Maine on his back with Wash sprawled across his chest, sharing slow, lazy kisses. If this were one of those romance novels that South swore she didn't read, or one of those pornos that Tucker had shown him before Wash enacted the No Sharing rule at work, they would be well on their way to fucking. But they weren't- they never were.

Wash hummed thoughtfully and folded his arms over Maine's chest, pulling back to look down at him. Maine chuffed a question at him, curious.

“I was thinking,” Wash began. “Do you not have sex?”

“No. Don't like it.” A simple answer. Straightforward, just like Maine. One of his hands came up, ghosting fingers up and down Wash's spine. “Why? You want to?”

“Not really.” Wash dipped his head to press a kiss to Maine's chest, right over his heart, and smiled. “I'm glad you don't either.”

*

Wash stayed at Maine's house that night. Maine's bed was bigger than Wash's, and unlike his, which smelled of York and South no matter how often he washed the sheets, Maine's bed smelled like Maine, a mix of soap and melon-scented shampoo, and he could get used to this, being surrounded by Maine's warmth and Maine's scent and Maine's eight thousand pillows.

(Wash had been surprised by the pillows, expecting Maine to be the sort to go for minimal, but Maine had just said that army cots sucked and returned to building up his nest for the night.)

At around three, they were woken by a heavy, solid mass hopping up onto the bed and curling up on them, purring contentedly. Maine reached over to flick the lamp on and Wash blinked in the sudden light, not at all surprised to see Sigma there. He blinked blearily at his cat, who was over at his boyfriend's house, apparently just to sleep.

Then he shoved his head under a pillow and decided it could wait till morning.

*

Wash woke to sun streaming into a bed empty of Maine. He grumbled sleepily and curled into the space Maine had vacated recently, still slightly warm, and was about to go back to sleep when Sigma hopped up beside him and curled against his chest. He unclipped the camera from Sigma's collar and set it aside; he'd watch later and figure out how Sigma had gotten out.

“I should probably be mad at you, Sig,” he said idly. He stroked Sigma's side softly. “But if you didn't keep coming over here I don't think I would have met Maine, and we wouldn't be together now. So I think I'll let it slide this time.”

*

o/o

**Author's Note:**

> I have separate, unrelated headcanons about South and Wash being tactile sleepers. York wasn't supposed to be there, he just snuck in on his own.
> 
> I also have this headcanon that Wash and South were actually really good friends before everything went to shit. I mean, even after she shot him in the back, he was going to let her live- until Delta told him she'd gotten North killed to save her own skin. He even went against orders to fake her death at one point. I'd say that speaks some volumes about their relationship.


End file.
